


were we made in his image?

by 333333333



Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: Monologue, formatted poetically, pov you are in a jar and i have contained you and wont stop ranting asmr, the person the collector is referring to switches every so often. take a guess as to who.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:40:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23626288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/333333333/pseuds/333333333
Summary: The Collector has placed the Little Ghost in a jar and sits down for a chat. Ghost is not much for conversation.  (its a monologue.)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 62





	were we made in his image?

Hollow. Hollow. Hollow. Hollow.

That is what he demanded.

I never understood what that meant.

I, a being of void.

I, a being of soul.

I, alive, alive, alive, alive.

so sweetly alive.

all gods, the self professed

him especially,

awful lords of the earth,

must learn not to toy with life.

never with living things.

I, a being of soul.

I, a being of void.

born of the whim of a god of white magic.

"pure magic."

born of the whim of

a hungry ghost, a being damned to eternity.

I, a being born of void,

I, a being born of soul,

neither son neither daughter,

not true progeny,

born not of his blood.

and yet,

he treats me with soft strangeness.

is it love?

i do not know her.

is it fear?

i know him better.

all i want, all i wish for

is to know.

to understand.

living things fascinate me, you know.

i appreciate that you've taken

the time to sit here with me.

most try to run away.

i know him well.

i know what fear is.

i know him well.

i know too well.

i wish to evaluate.

the king, that is.

if i could, i'd poke and prod,

and poke

and prod

and poke

and prod

and rip away the outer case

so i can see so sweetly inside.

i want so badly to know

what compels him.

what is it that stirs within the guts of a god?

what causes such beings to meddle,

to patchwork together

to create a being like me?

why do you claim to know me?

how can you claim to understand me?

come closer, pale creature.

let me study you.

let me poke and prod.

let me cut away the outer shell.

let me come to understand

the machinations within,

the

way

you

fucking

tick.

the reason why i keep everyone inside?

the reason i contain?

i wish to preserve.

i wish to protect them.

i wish to understand.

but with him?

the king?

let me tear him apart.

let me cut you apart.

i want to see what you're like.

are you so soft inside?

or are you brittle, crystalline?

how were you made?

did you build yourself?

is there anything inside at all?

if gods create

their chosen people

in their image

where does that leave me?

is that it, then?

is that why you wanted me to be hollow?

Hollow.

Hollow.

Hollow.

Hollow.

you are a different kind of god,

o pale creature.

many have told me

how you came down from the stars

a being of "heaven"

how can you call yourself

King and Creator?

when you formed yourself in

the image of "your" people?

what right have you,

to call them yours?

what then, am i?

formed this way,

I, a being born of soul,

I, a being born of void.

am I one of your people?

What am I to you?

Who am I to you?

It matters less now.

now that I'm here.

now that he's gone.

how do I feel?

wait do you mean,

about him?

HA!

I, a being born of void,

I, a being born of soul,

I care not.

I care not.

he treated me with such strangeness,

so soft!

putting me here,

in this "Tower of Love,"

while i, dear listener,

i bear none for him.

i figure, you're strong enough.

i dont think i can protect you

the way i’ve kept safe

all the little ones crawling

along the ground.

go forth my friend.

I will leave you be,

dear listener.


End file.
